


Parfüm

by orphan_account



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Derek is Dumb, Derek is bad with feelings, Florsit au, M/M, Multi, No Werewolves, Stiles is a florist, all the feels, nonsmut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a florist, and Derek is a customer that comes in on Valentines Day to buy flowers for his girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parfüm

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to do this for a while! Have a crappy florist au that is super under developed!

He was always up at early hours, coffee in one hand- _venti half-caf quad Americano, with room for cream_ \- and a cream-cheese bagel in the other.  
He’d always open the store at seven am, and close at nine pm- on the dot. Never a second later, never a minute earlier. His routine became his life… well; it became an important part of his life, at least. Along with flowers.

 

There was something about being a florist that made flowers so much more… amazing? No. That word didn’t even begin to describe, well, his fascination with flowers.  
Maybe the constant smell of Lavender was getting to his head- _sweet and subtle, an aroma that reminded everyone of spring. He only watered them once a week, and kept a light on them at all times_ \- or the frustration from the meticulous care it took to keep his  
Cymbidium Orchids alive- _If they became too dry or hot, they’d wilt within hours, but if they became too wet or cold they wouldn’t blossom fully-_ was getting to his head, but he didn’t notice if they were.

 

He loved the vibrant colours of the plants that surrounded him- _the hues ranged from white to black, all pigments of the spectrum!_ – And how he’d been around the florals in his shop for so long that he perpetually smelt of Frangipani Blossoms and Sweet Alyssum.

 

Business was hard sometimes, but Stiles didn’t mind. He loved seeing how simple flowers, or ornate ones, brought smiles to people’s faces. He liked to think of flowers as some divine power’s greatest artistic achievement.  
And, well, if he could make a profit from arranging White Ecuadorian Roses, Lilies and Alliums, while bringing joy to a stressed bride, or if he could brighten a little girl-who was-going-through-her-first-round-of-chemo’s day by giving her a sunflower, he’d do it in a heartbeat. _Well, he already was._

 

Valentine’s day was unusually slow the year Stiles met Derek hale.  
The man had pushed the glass door of Stiles’ store open, making the bell ring.  
Stiles had bounded to the front of the store, with a huge smile on his face, a little surprised when he saw the customer.  
He looked so out of place in his black leather jacket, faded blue jeans and combat boots. The stranger exuded an air of confidence and an aura that made Stiles immediately peg him as a classic-red-rose kind of guy. _Stiles l **iked** red rose lovers... But not as much as he loved actual red roses._  
And the guy’s face was a bonus too; stubble, blue eyes and thick brows.  
He was like… He was a bit like a rose, in a way- Covered in thorns at the stem, but aesthetically pleasing nonetheless.

 

“Hi there. Can I help you?” Stiles asked, reaching for the red roses. He was positive that was what the man was here for.

The man looked like he was hesitant to ask for help, like admitting weakness would hurt his reputation.

“I don’t bite.” Stiles chuckled.

The stranger cleared his throat and nodded.  
“This is a florists, right?”

“The flowers didn’t give that away?”

The customer laughed softly, shaking his head.  
“I’m looking for flowers for my girlfriend…”

Stiles wanted to punch something, because _of course_ a guy as cute as this would be buying flowers for his girlfriend on Valentines Day, but he kept smiling.

“Alright. Tell me what she’s like, and I’ll choose some flowers based on her personality…”

“Can’t I just get her red roses?”

The shopkeeper laughed, shaking his head.  
“Flowers aren’t as simple as that… see, you’re a red rose sort-of guy. I can tell from the leather jacket. But she might want, say, Chrysanthemums.”

The man clearly had no idea what a Chrysanthemum was, but he nodded anyways.  
“She’s a really tough girl… very… spunky and spontaneous. Kate’s really flirty and fun…”

 

Stiles hummed, thinking of a flower for the girl.  
“I’m thinking… Dahlias. I’ll go grab some for you… is a dozen alright?”

The man nodded.  
“Yeah… I uh… what colour are they? Cuz Kate doesn't like blue..”

“The kind I have are red, with white tips.” Stiles replied, going to the back of his store.  
He took out a pair of shears, cutting twelve of the flowers at the stem, before wrapping them in pink heart covered paper.

“Would that be all for you, sir?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah.”

“Would you like a card?”

“Uh… do girls usually want cards?” the stranger asked.

Stiles smiled at the stranger’s lack of knowledge on the subject.  
“Usually, people write personal messages they’re too shy to say face-to-face on cards. You don’t have to, but sometimes it’s nice.” He explained.

“Then, uh… yeah… I just have no clue what to write.”

“Alright. Here… I’ll write it for you. From?”

“Uh, Derek. Derek Hale.”

“What, you aren’t on a first-name-only basis yet?”

“Just Derek.” Said the ma- Derek.

_Nice name for a nice face._

“Alright, From Derek, To Kate. Happy valentines day.” He said.

“That’s it?” Derek asked.

“Yep. You can write more later, if you feel like it, Derek.”

“Um… thanks,” Derek looked at his nametag. “Stiles.”

“Anytime. Anyways, your total is seventeen dollars and ninety-two cents. How would you like to pay for that?”

“Credit.”

That was how Stiles Stilinski met Derek Hale.

 

 

It became routine for Stiles, Coffee, cream-cheese bagel, and, once a month, Derek Hale.

The man would come in; hair tousled from driving with his windows down- no matter what the weather was- and his sunglasses hooked on the deep scoop of the v-neck shirts he always seemed to wear. He’d often smile at Stiles, and tell him of his day while the shopkeeper would make a bouquet for Derek’s girlfriend, Kate… He never brought up Kate, other than that one time on Valentines Day.

From their conversations, Stiles was able to gather that Derek was an independent contractor who’d come into a large inheritance when his mother and father passed away in a house fire- Stiles had put a hand on Derek’s back and told him that he didn’t have to talk about it if it was too hard to bring up, but Derek still told him.  
He had three sisters, Erica, Cora and Laura- Stiles had laughed at how all their names rhymed. Derek had only smiled a little. – A brother, Isaac, and an uncle, Peter.  
Cora lived in Argentina, where she was studying the Valdivian Rain Forest.  
Erica was engaged to a boy named Vernon- But everyone called him Boyd- and was studying sociology. Laura was married and had several children, so Derek didn’t see her very much. Derek didn’t want to talk about Peter or Isaac, so Stiles didn’t know anything about them.  
He also found out that Derek drank black coffee, found smoking disgusting, and modelled for a French underwear company once.  
Other than all of that, Derek Hale was a complete mystery to the florist.

 

But… Stiles knew his favourite flower. _Red Roses._

 

 

When Derek broke up with Kate, it was on their seven-month anniversary.  
There had been no tears, and, according to Derek, it was a mutual thing.  
He’d come to Stiles’ shop ten minutes before closing time, hands in his pockets and a scowl etched on his face.  
“It’s okay, Derek. If you weren’t meant to be, you weren’t meant to be.” Stiles said, with a sad smile on his face.  
“You’ll find the right person for you. I promise.”  
That night, Stiles gave Derek a rosebud with a small piece of moss, not telling him that it was a confession.

 

 

The man came by only one more time that week, looking like he had the best sleep in his life.  
“Derek, can you reach those Gloxinias for me?” Stiles asked, going up on his tiptoes, reaching upwards fruitlessly.  
Derek had groaned and stood slowly.  
“I’m not even that much taller than you…”  
Stiles felt Derek behind him, reaching up for the flowers.  
He smelt like saw dust, freshly mowed grass and…  
Stiles smiled fondly and blushed a little.  
Derek smelt like Stiles’ shop.  
“What do these flowers mean?” Derek asked curiously, once he’d gotten down the pot Stiles had been reaching for.  
“Well, a single Gloxinia means ‘love at first sight’. More than one means unrequited feelings.”  
Derek had stared at Stiles for a minute, before saying he needed to get to work.

 

 

Derek came by to visit much more often after that, but it wasn’t to see the shopkeeper. It was to buy flowers for the women in his life. For Anna, Stiles had picked out Peonies- Derek thought they were good for small and fun people, but in flower language it actually was a flower of resentment-, For Julianne, Zinnias – Derek liked how many petals they were, but Stiles found that yellow flowers were something to give your dying grandmother on her deathbed- For Lily, the choice was obvious.  
“I was just thinking of getting a dozen Lilies for Lily.” Derek had said with a shrug.  
Stiles had sighed and shook his head.

“What do you want from this girl?” Stiles had asked, drawing a line at this girl.

“What’re you talking about, Stiles?”

“You’re going through girls faster than a roll of toilet paper.”

Derek rolled his eyes at the comparison.  
“I’m hoping to get laid… and maybe see where it goes from there.”

Stiles snorted at the irony, shaking his head.

“What was that for?” Derek asked, raising a brow.

“Lilies are a symbol of innocence and virginity.”

“Guess I’ll just de-flower her, huh?” Derek joked, with a crooked smirk and a wink.

“Derek, you’re going to regret this… you’re just hurting people…”

“Stiles, just because you’re a prude, doesn’t mean I have to be.”

Stiles didn’t even fake a smile.

When Derek went to the shop the next day, expecting to see his friend, he only saw a closed sign.

 

 

Stiles didn’t go to work for two weeks, feeling sick. He’d cooked up every natural homemade cure for his cold that he could think of- Elderberry tea, for boosting his immune system. Nettle leaf, for toxin removal. Ginger to settle his stomach- but it was more mental than physical. There were no plants that could fix how he felt.

 

When he got back to the floral shop, he mourned the loss of many of his flowers. All his orchids had wilted, and his Carnations were falling apart.  
The holly that he’d so carefully been growing had died. He took that as a sign, and swore off his fondness for Derek Hale.

Derek didn’t come by for a month and a half, and Stiles fell back into his routine within a few days, Coffee, Cream cheese-bagel, and for a while, it was as if he didn’t need Derek Hale to make his routine feel… normal again.  
He just needed his flowers… Red, thorny and aromatic roses… sawdust and freshly mowed grass. Stiles found himself feeling sick again.

 

 

But when Derek showed up at the doorstep of Stiles’ store, it was a month and a half after Stiles' weeks off. It was just before closing time, drenched in the rain that had begun to fall, Stiles could feel his feelings for Derek hit him like a tsunami tide.

“Why’re you just standing out there?” Stiles had asked, once he’d opened the door to the shop.

“I was thinking of what I’d say to you.” Derek said quietly, looking like the leading man in some romantic film, due to the way the rain was falling down onto him, and his general appearance.

“And what, exactly, were you planning on saying?” Stiles asked.

“Sorry. I was going to say sorry.”

Stiles had squeezed his lips into a firm line, before inviting Derek in for a cup of tea.

“The kitchen in the back isn’t really functional… I mean, I keep the rainforest plants back there, but I have a kettle and some earl grey…”

“That’s fine for me.”

Stiles nodded.  
“You must be freezing. I’ll get you a blanket.”

Derek shook his head.  
“I’m fine, Stiles. Just… sit with me?”

Stiles sighed and sat with Derek, the sound of the kettle boiling the water filling the floral shop.

“It smells nice in here…” Derek commented, after several minutes of awkward silence.

Stiles nodded and smiled.  
“It’s one of the best parts of being a florist... being surrounded by the smell… it’s like a personal perfume of the most beautiful smells in the world… I bet that sounded pretty stupid, huh?”

Derek shook his head and smiled back at Stiles.  
“Not at all… I get it, you love flowers.”

“More than anything…”

“More than me?”

Stiles’ eyes widened.  
“W-What?”

“Stiles, I’m not as stupid as you think. I looked up what a rosebud represents.”

He suddenly felt nervous, like he hadn’t had his caffeine fix and someone was holding a coffee cup in front of him.  
“And? It’s just a flower…”

“When has it ever been just a flower to you? It’s a love confession.”

“Water’s ready…” He mumbled in an attempt to change the subject.

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Stiles?”

“What’s there to tell, Derek? You’re straight, and a fucking red rose… if anything, I’m a Eucharis Lily.”

“What does that mean, Stiles?” Derek asked.

“We’re just… incompatible.”

Derek shook his head, standing up.

“I’ve got something I need to do.” He mumbled, before turning on his heel, combat boots clunking loudly on the tile floor.

 

Stiles loved flowers. They were his life. Flowers were so much nicer that people- and quieter.  
He spent the entire evening thinking of things he could have, should have, said to Derek earlier.  
Derek was such a red rose and he was… a Eucharis Lily.  
There was a loud knock on Stiles’ front door, which had made the florist jump in his own skin.  
He hated loud noises.  
Braving the cold hall in his apartment, Stiles made it to the door.  
When he pulled the door open, he saw a pot on the floor, with a single purple gloxinia inside of it, a card attached.  
It read;  
_From Derek, To Stiles. A certain florist once told me this meant love at first sight. Happy Valentines Day._

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever read something you wrote years ago and cringe


End file.
